


Nobody's Fuckin' Business

by Efflorescent



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gallavich, Ian and Mickey talk dicks, Lots of Cursing, M/M, Nosy coworkers, but this is Shameless, interrogation ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efflorescent/pseuds/Efflorescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God your lives are fuckin’ boring if my love life is your only source of entertainment,” Mickey grumbles as he slides into the booth with his beer, squeezing in next to Janelle while Rikki and Dalton take the other side.</p><p>“She won’t get jealous with you sitting next to me?” Janelle asks and Mickey is almost confused by the question before he remembers that they still think Ian is a woman.</p><p> </p><p>In which Mickey's coworkers learn that he has been in a relationship for ten years and the interrogation ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody's Fuckin' Business

**Author's Note:**

> Mickey and Ian have been in a relationship for about ten years. They're living in New York with Yev. I just felt the compulsion to write some Gallavich.
> 
> Feel free to follow me and send me prompts for what to write on [Tumblr](http://little-spn-obsessed.tumblr.com/).

It’s _none of their fucking business_ what Mickey does during his breaks. He’s willing to brave the New York winter to have a smoke on the rooftop and talk to his boyfriend without judgment and prying eyes. He likes to hear his guy ramble for a half hour about his day and fuck them if they try and deprive Mickey of his silent pleasure.

“Shit,” Mickey hisses out as he flicks the remains of his cigarette from his fingers. For some reason, Mickey always preferred to smoke left-handed. He’s sure some psychologist or some shit would comment on Mickey’s need to keep his right hand available in case of attack, but that was too Discovery Channel. ‘Sides, Mickey is just as good with his left.

“What happened?” Ian asks with worry laced between the pauses.

“Fuck. Nothing. I forgot I was smokin’.” Mickey shook his hand to get rid of the burning sensation, wiggling the fingers and clenching them, testing to see if they can form comfortably into a fist. You never know.

“How the hell you forget you were smoking, Mick?” There are traces of laughter behind the question like he’s waiting for Mickey to give him permission to laugh at him. Fuck that.

“Fuck you,” Mickey says with no real venom, “I was talkin’ to some shit for brains on the phone and he wouldn’t shut the hell up about his day that’s how.” Mickey leans back against the brick wall and eyeballs the clock near his head. He’s still got three minutes.

“Awww, Mick. My day trumps your nicotine addiction?” He’s outright laughing now.

“Fuck you is what your day means, Firecrotch. Listen, I gotta get back to work. Fuckin’ fingers hurt.” Mickey pivots to head towards the door, figuring Ian’s response would be a parting one.

“Well with sweet words like that, you’re not gonna have to worry about your hands tonight. I can take care of you.” He can practically _hear_ Ian’s smirk through the phone. Mickey turns his back towards the door like he’s waiting for Ian to make fun of the dopey smile he’s got on his face.

“Shit,” it comes out breathier than he wants, “you better not pass out ‘fore I get home or I’m just gonna wake you anyway.”

“Yeah I think you’re mixing me up with _you_ on that one, Mick.” Ian is definitely smiling now.

“Babe.” It took Mickey years before that word felt natural coming from his lips. “That was _once_ and I just got off a double! My apologies if it’s 2am and I ain’t completely aware of your mouth on my-“ Mickey cuts himself off when he turns around and is greeted by the shit-eating grins of three of his coworkers. “Shit,” is the word Mickey chooses after three seconds of silence.

“Nah, Mick. You keep a pretty clean ship down there!” Ian laughs at his own joke. “You didn’t forget another cigarette, did you?” Ian is chucking to himself, completely unaware of Mickey’s turmoil.

Mickey looks at Dalton, Rikki, and Janelle. He flounders with trying to school his features into something that doesn’t resemble a fuckin’ retarded fish. They’re each hunched together, watching Mickey, their eyes alight with deep amusement and interest.

“What? No. I – uh – shit. I gotta go. Break’s over.” Mickey tries to remain calm. He’s caught between wanting to look them in the eyes to try and understand what they’re thinking and wanting to look away so he won’t have to find out.

“Well, alright. Pretty sure I gotta draw the line with no working hands, Mick. See you at home.” Ian is still completely unaware. Either that or he’s choosing to ignore Mickey’s sudden silence.

“Uh, yeah. See you.” Mickey holds off the ‘at home’ part. Maybe he can salvage this yet. Nope. The second he hangs up his phone, they pounce.

“And who was _that_ , Mickey?” Janelle’s voice is absolutely dripping with curiosity. When he had first met her, she punched him in the chest the second the words “wait, she’s a woman” had left his mouth. She punched him in the chest again two days later when she found out he’d said it not because he thought women shouldn’t work in garages – He doesn’t give a shit about that. Mandy’s helped with his car more than once so fuck her for thinking that – but because he thought she was a dude when he’d first seen her. Her short, black hair wrapped underneath her hat and the most un-fuckin’-flattering coveralls didn’t help her any. But he liked her regardless.

“Fuck you is who it was,” Mickey bites, trying to turn away from the conversation before Dalton and Rikki can gang up on him.

“Suuuuure didn’t sound like nothin’, brother!” Dalton’s drawl becomes thicker when he’s excited so fuck him for getting his rocks off watching Mickey squirm. “Sounds like you were talkin’ to your lady.” He wraps an arm around Rikki’s tanned shoulders, forming a wall like this is fucking Germany.

“Thought you said you don’t got a girl, man.” Rikki’s reaction is interesting. He almost sounds insulted. Like Mickey and him have fuckin’ sleepovers and braid each other’s hair and confess who they like and _like_ like. He supposes he likes Rikki best if hanging out with him the most after work indicates that. Still, it _ain’t nobody’s business_ who he sleeps with. Or lives with. Or has been with for going on ten years.

“When the fuck did I say that?” Mickey decides to skirt answering the question. 60% because, once again, it’s none of their business who he fucks, and 40% because when the fuck did they have that conversation? Not like Mickey is some high school girl in the bathroom gossiping about who’s fucking who.

“Well, we asked you to come to the club with us, like, a couple weeks back. These two,” Janelle points to the fucking Berlin Wall beside her, “said they was gonna get you laid and you said you ‘don’t fuckin’ need it’.” Her annoying ass impression of him gets a pass mostly because it was surprisingly accurate.

“Yeah, well, I _don’t_ _fuckin’ need it_.” It’s weird doing an impression of the impression someone does of you.

“’Cause you got a girl,” Rikki says like he’s trying to talk sense into Mickey. Mickey debates just blurting it out. He didn’t wanna come out at work. Nobody fuckin’ told him that coming out once meant you had to do it nearly every day. It’s not like he’s ashamed of Ian. That for sure ain’t it. It’s just that it’s _nobody’s fucking business_.

They’re lucky he doesn’t get a word in before their boss comes in, biting their heads off about getting back to work. Catelyn had inherited the business from her father, but had gotten her mean right hook from her mother. The woman was downright scary and all four of them scattered like roaches in the light.

 

* * *

 

 

Mickey thought for sure that an eight hour shift would make them back off. Apparently not. Mickey’s just getting out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, when he sees all three of them hunched together like the penguins from that documentary that Ian made him watch. Also, the fuck is Janelle doing in here? He walks over to them with the stealth of growing up on the Southside where not waking your drunken, pissed off father was a rite of passage. He doesn’t bother with that cliché throat clearing shit.

“’Sup, fuckers?” Mickey’s words make them jump so high it almost makes him laugh until he sees his phone between the three of them. Fuck them, it’s passcode protected anyway.

“Uh,” spills from all three of them like a flatline.

“Didn’t know dumbass came in stereo,” Mickey quips before snatching his phone from their clutches. His wallpaper is a picture of his arms holding Yevgeny. Ian had changed it to that and he couldn’t be fucked to change it back to the picture of him and his brothers holding stolen guns. He shoves the phone into his pants that are draped over the bench.

“You was s’posed to keep watch, Rikki. And say if he was finishin’ up,” Mick hears Dalton mumble with an aggressive shove to Rikki’s ribs.

“No lo oí apagar la ducha,” Rikki mumbles underneath his breath.

“Yeah. No shit you didn’t hear it turn off ‘cause you fuckheads were too busy messin’ with my phone.” Mickey turns to glare at them and is met with slightly surprised faces that turn back into childish pouts.

“We just wanted to know, Mickey.” Janelle almost looks apologetic. If he hadn’t grown up with Mandy’s puppy dog eyes, he might have fallen for it.

“Yeah, well, if your lives are so boring you gotta look through my phone, maybe you should go watch the fucking Real Housewives since you wanna be all up in someone else’s business.” Mickey huffs when he’s met with unrelenting stares. He’s reminded of all the times Ian was disappointed in him back when they were still in their growing pains.

“Fuckin’” Mickey curses under his breath, “FINE. You each get _one_ question. Nothin’ too specific or I walk out. I’m dead serious.” And he was. He’s not above running away from this. The smiles he gets almost make him more annoyed than his satisfaction with seeing them. They look between each other like Mickey is some kind of Monkey’s Paw and their wording of each question is dire. But of course Dalton just blasts through, consequences be damned.

“How long’ve y’all been together?” He looks Mickey in the eye to see if his question is suitable. Mickey rolls his eyes.

“We been official since I was 19. Datin’ on and off since I was 16. So countin’ them, almost ten years.” Mickey forces himself to watch their reactions. Janelle does some weird ass eye twitch, head shake combination and Mickey half expects a noise to cue up like in the old cartoons when the characters shook their head. Rikki’s jaw visibly drops and he lips the word ‘ten years’, looking around to confirm whether or not he heard correctly. Dalton just bores into Mickey’s eyes like he’s waiting to spot Mickey’s tell so he can call bullshit. Well, good luck with that.

“For real?!” Janelle finally manages to find her voice. “You’re not shitting us right now?” The others turn to her and back to Mickey in seconds.

“That’ll count as another question.” Mickey smirks when his response is met with a chorus of emphatic “NOs”. Janelle is quiet, contemplating what question to ask before she finally figures one out.

“How did you two meet?” Mickey’s grateful for the lack of pronouns in this conversation.

“Sister’s friend. We were hookin’ up behind her back. Got caught havin' sex, then I got shot and sent to juvie and it ended. When I came back, we started back up. Got caught havin’ sex again, got sent to juvie a second time, got out and back together, got shot _again_ , got caught having sex again, broke up for about a year, found each other again, got back together with my sister’s blessing. The end.” Mickey is almost amazed at how he can sum up the early tragedy that is his and Ian’s love life. He manages to fight the twitch that comes to his hand whenever he remembers that night his father caught them.

“Your sister’s _friend_?!”

“Y’all got caught doin’ the nasty?”

“You got _SHOT TWICE?_ ”

All three responses came at once, but at Rikki’s mention of Mickey’s gunshot wounds, the other two forgo their questions, eager for his response to Rikki’s.

“This doesn’t count as one!” Janelle shoots before Mickey can even open his mouth. Mickey sighs and figures ‘what the hell.’

“Yeah. I been shot twice. First time, an ex-boyfriend shot me in the leg over stealing a Snickers bar from his store when we all knew it was ‘cause he caught us fuckin’ in the freezer when he was supposed to be away.” Mickey hikes his towel up slightly to show the scar from the bullet that is still on his thigh after all these years. He watches each of their eyebrows raise in interest and wonder. Dalton looks tempted to touch it, so Mickey let the towel drop back down before continuing. “The second time was ‘cause we were robbin’ the wife of this other ex-boyfriend. I got bitched at when I tried to bring my guns with. Just ‘some drunk old lady’. Yeah. With a fuckin’ shot gun.” Mickey still feels annoyance at that. He didn’t even notice that he lowered his voice to do his impression of Ian, but none of the others caught it either.

“Where did you get shot that time?” Dalton asks, closely looking up and down Mickey’s body like he’s a fucking _Where’s Waldo_ book. He bypasses Mickey’s numerous scars, having grown used to seeing them since they share a locker room. Mickey hesitates and debates for a few seconds before answering.

“Got shot in the ass.” He lets the words hang there and is completely unsurprised when they simultaneously burst into laughter. Dickheads. When the laughter subsides, Rikki speaks up.

“Jeeze. You two were, like, super badass when you were growing up, huh? Bonnie and Clyde style! The terror couple of Chicago?” Mickey and Ian have been living in New York for about five years now, but he doesn’t find himself missing Chicago very much. Plenty of crime and violence in the Big Apple to wipe away that nostalgia.

“Yeah. Now fuck off. I gotta get dressed.” He crosses his arms across his chest, waiting for them to exit.

“Fine fine. We’re going. But we get one more question! We’ll wait till you’re dressed!” Janelle pouts as she’s heading towards the door. The other two nod in agreement and make their way towards the locker room door, shutting it behind them.

Mickey turns his back towards the door and sighs. Just as he’s about to drop his towel to change into his underwear, his Southside senses start tingling and he whips around to spot all three of them staring at his toweled ass with surprising focus.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” Mickey chucks a shoe at the door and weighs the pros and cons of committing a triple homicide as he hears their boisterous laughter ring through the halls.

 

* * *

 

 

Mickey’s fully dressed when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulls it out and, sure enough, it’s Ian. Speak of the devil. He looks around to make sure none of those dumbasses are around; he even goes to the lengths of peeking out the locker room door. When the coast is clear, he answers the phone and can’t help the warmth that spreads through him when he hears Ian’s “-king OW, YEV! Mick, you there?” He chuckles his answer.

“Yev bite your finger again? Fucker’s got teeth like a Honey Badger.” Mickey leans against the lockers, facing the door because he learned from his mistake last time.

“Yeah he does. Tried to take his Jell-O so he’d go to sleep ‘cause he’s got school in the morning. Thought I was gonna lose the damn thing.” Ian’s got the humor in his voice already.

“Good thing you didn’t. Pretty sure I gotta draw the line with no fingers, Ian,” Mickey echoes Ian’s words from earlier and smiles at the burst of laughter that comes from the other side of the phone.

“You would. You headin’ home then?” Ian asks when his laughter subsides.

“Yeah. Got caught up.” Mickey pauses for a minute and Ian seems to understand that he wants to say more because the redhead remains quiet, which is rare for him. “Jan, Rikki, and Dalton kinda found out that I’m in a relationship.” He figures since he’s been so honest today, why not make it a thing for the rest of the evening. Ian is silent on the other end.

“You haven’t come out to them yet.” Ian’s words have no bite. It’s almost worse because there’s no expectation or disappointment in them. Just an unsurprised observation. Mickey’s not sure what to do with that.

“No.” He says simply. “Just because they think they live in the fucking O.C. doesn’t mean I gotta go parading my relationship around them.” Mickey isn’t 100% sure who he’s trying to convince.

“Yeah, it’s no problem, babe,” Ian’s words sound genuine and that makes Mickey’s heart ache worse. It’s probably why he blurts out his answer.  
“Figure you’d wanna meet ‘em in person. I’m a show rather than tell kind of guy.” Mickey’s heart stops beating in the time it takes Ian to respond.

“Really? Like really really?” Ian’s enthusiasm is a miasma that poisons Mickey’s brain.

“Yeah. We usually go out for a drink. Meet us at The Corner in twenty and I’ll introduce you.” Mickey can feel his heart race and soar.

“Ok! Ok. I’ll be there! I will! In twenty? At The Corner? I’ll be there! Mrs. Dhal can watch Yev!” Ian is speaking so fast that Mickey wonders if he’s trying to fill the spaces so Mickey can’t take his words back.

“Alright. I’ll meet you there, babe. I’m gonna head out, okay?”

“Okay!” And Ian hangs up. Mickey is just blinking at his phone and heads out the door, relieved to find nobody leaning up against it with a glass to their ear. Wouldn’t put it past those fuckers. He walks back to the main lobby of the garage and spots all three of them still huddled. Rikki spots him first and speaks before the others can.

“We’re having a-“ Rikki pauses to point to each person, lipping as he counts and adding another number when he points to the invisible space next to Mickey. “pentadate?” Rikki looks around for confirmation that that’s an actual thing – no fucking way it is – and eventually shrugs his shoulders when nobody denies him.

“We’re going for a drink at The Corner. So get your phone and call your-“ Dalton is interrupted by Mickey raising his hand.

“I’ve already called. We’re all meeting at The Corner in twenty so shut the fuck up.” Mickey walks past their surprised looks and rolls his eyes as they animatedly follow him.

 

* * *

 

 

“God your lives are fuckin’ boring if my love life is your only source of entertainment,” Mickey grumbles as he slides into the booth with his beer, squeezing in next to Janelle while Rikki and Dalton take the other side.

“She won’t get jealous with you sitting next to me?” Janelle asks and Mickey is almost confused by the question before he remembers that they still think Ian is a woman. Mickey releases an ugly noise from his throat.

“Doubt it. You’re not exactly my type.” He laughs as she punches him hard in the arm.

“You _still_ think she looks like a dude, brother?” Dalton is laughing his ass off and Rikki’s face has gone red from trying to hold back his laughter.

“Not what I meant.” Mickey mumbles under his breath and looks at his phone. Ian should be here any minute now.

“Yeah well fuck you very much,” Janelle starts. “Doesn’t Rikki have a question still?” She smiles when she sees Mickey’s scowl at her memory. Mickey chooses not to answer, instead opting to gesture vaguely at Rikki, giving him permission to ask his damn question. Rikki is quiet for a moment before he looks up at Mickey with that same slightly hurt expression from earlier.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a girlfriend? And don’t say it’s because it’s none of our business ‘cause, come on. We’ve all worked together for almost five years.” Mickey almost feels bad now. The other two are looking at him pointedly. It’s the same look Mandy gave him after she found out. Mickey finally finds his voice and looks down at the table.

“Because… I _don’t_ have a girlfriend,” Mickey says quietly. He looks up to see the confused and frustrated looks of his coworkers.

“Come ON, Mickey! That’s total bullshit! We _heard_ you talking with her on the phone, man!” Dalton’s eyes squint at Mickey, trying to understand his angle. All three sets of eyes bore into him as the silence overtakes their table. It takes Mickey a total of twenty seconds to crack.

“Ebanyi v rot,” Mickey blurts in Ukranian and it makes the others look at one another to confirm that Mickey had indeed not spoken English. Janelle and Dalton both pause on Rikki who scoffs indignantly.

“Fuck you guys. Just ‘cause I’m not white doesn’t mean I know what the hell he just said. Wasn’t English _or_ Spanish, dickheads.” Rikki crosses his arms in a huff and Mickey takes this prime opportunity to just get it out.

“Fuck. I’m fuckin’ _gay_ , alright? Jesus. It’s not a girl. It was my fuckin’ boyfriend.” Swearing aside, Mickey realizes it really wasn’t that hard to say. Because honestly it wasn’t nearly as hard as the last time he’d come out in a bar. Maybe he really was just overrea-

“HOLY SHIT! WHAT?”

“NO FUCKIN’ WAY!”

“NO YOU’RE NOT!”

Mickey is almost disappointed in himself with how much their volume caught him off guard.

“Jesus Christ! One at a time!” Mickey is leaning as far away from the group as he can, eyes on the door when he notices someone. Ian is just leaning up against the booth in front of them, lookin’ all fuckin’ casual. Mickey doesn’t take his eyes off of him as his coworkers begin bombarding him with questions. None of them seem aware of his diverted attention.

“Are you just making this shit up?” Dalton asks.

“No. I’m not. The fuck kinda motivation I got to lie ‘bout that?” Mickey still doesn’t look away from Ian, but can’t stop himself from mirroring the slight smile Ian gives him when the redhead hears his answer.

“So you’re _actually_ gay?” Rikki asks with a gross amount of enthusiasm.

“No. I’m pretend gay. I’ve just been in a committed and sexual relationship with another man for the past ten fuckin’ years for shits and giggles.” Mickey doesn’t even pull back his sarcasm. The others at the table don’t hear Ian’s laugh over their own. Mickey spares a glance at the group and looks back to Ian who’s still smiling fondly before Janelle breaks the spell.

“So you love him then?” Her question is a little bit quieter. Like she respects that maybe Mickey doesn’t want his entire love life put on blast to the entire bar that they regular. He makes sure to look Ian dead in he eyes before he answers.

“Kinda seems that way, don’t it?” He ignores their annoying coos and awws. He nods his head at Ian in acknowledgement. “C’mere,” He beckons the red head and scoots over closer to Janelle before Ian even gets up. The others scrunch their brows in confusion before Janelle’s eyes fall onto Ian who is now walking. Rikki and Dalton turn around to watch him make his way over to their booth and sit next to Mickey. Mickey opens his mouth to get this over with, but Ian speaks before he gets the chance.

“Hi. I’m Ian, the ‘fuckin’ boyfriend.’ Nice to meet you all.” Mickey nearly laughs at the flabbergasted looks on their faces.

“Shit. He wasn’t lying?” Dalton looks between Mickey and Ian like he’s trying to detect a lie in the amount of space between them. Ian takes it in stride as usual.

“Nope! That’d be some Ocean’s Eleven level of commitment from him and I couldn’t even get him to watch that whole movie.” Ian says with a grin that Mickey can’t help but match.

“Fuck you it was long!” Mickey says just to fill the silence and to defend himself because it _was fucking long_. He nudges Ian’s shoulder when the red head snorts.

“That didn’t hold you back from makin’ me watch Lord of the Rings with you.” Ian’s face is turned towards Mickey now.

“Yeah, well Lord of the Rings was actually interesting.” Mickey raises his eyebrows, challenging Ian to dispute it.

“Don’t pretend like the problems of Middle Earth had you captivated, Mick. Viggo Mortensen was what had you interested.” Ian smirks when he sees Mickey bite his lower lip. To be fair, the movie _is_ interesting. It just became _more_ interesting when Aragorn was on screen. Guy is badass.

“Ok, you don’t get to have a hard-on for fuckin’ Van Damme and judge _me_ about my taste in movies.” Mickey is smiling widely now and rolls his eyes when he remembers his coworkers and sees them staring openly at their banter. ‘Staring’ would be an understatement. Hell, ‘gaping’ is lookin’ pretty weak right now. ‘Dumbfounded mouth agape look of flabbergasted shock’ feels pretty right, though.

“Holy shit they’re… _adorable_ ,” Janelle is the first one to snap out of it. The last word is a cross between amazement and affectionate disgust.

“What the hell is going on?!” Rikki looks between them rapidly like he’s watching the ball during a tennis match. His mouth is still open.

“You don’t close your mouth, I’m cuttin’ your fuckin’ tongue out.” Mickey idly threatens, smiling when Rikki shuts his mouth.

“Brotha, you gon’ just up an’ tell us this kinda news an’ expect us to jus’ walk away like it ain’t no bother?” Mickey’s never heard Dalton’s accent get that thick and that for some reason amuses him greatly.

“Fuck you. Ian, this is Janelle, Dalton, and fuckin’ Rikki.” Mickey gestures at each of them respectively.

“Why do I get the ‘fuckin’ put before my name?”

“’Cause you’re fuckin’ Rikki. I can swap out ‘fuckin’’ for ‘dumbass’ if you’d prefer.” Mickey tears his eyes from Ian to look at Rikki and laugh at his pout.

“It’s good to finally match faces to names,” Ian says with a smile. “Nice to meet you Janelle,” He nods over Mickey’s shoulder at Janelle, “Dalton,” He offers the creole a polite smile before continuing, “Fuckin’ Dumbass Rikki.” Ian smiles widely when Rikki gives a look of mock-insult as the table laughs.

 

* * *

 

 

The night went surprisingly quick. Ian drinking iced tea under the guise that he was sober cabbing rather than the fact that his meds made him an absolute light-weight.  They interrogated Ian at the first opportunity, which happens to be when Mickey gets up to get another beer. As he makes his way back to the booth, he can hear Dalton’s deep laughter and Rikki adding “so our dear Michael has gotten shot _twice_ because of you and he still keeps comin’ back for more? Because that's kind of amazing!” Mickey senses the impending question as Ian tilts his head.

“’Michael’? You guys think his first name is Michael?” Mickey steps on Ian’s toes, but it’s too late.

“Wait. His name isn’t Michael? What the hell is ‘Mickey’ short for, then?” Janelle’s eyes are glazed but she looks absolutely enthralled with Ian’s revelation.

“Chort vizʹmy.” Mickey curses under his breath as Ian slides further into the booth, taking his previous spot.

“And also _that_. What’s up with that? What language even _is_ that?” Janelle asks, leaning in conspiratorially with Ian. Ian spares a glance at Mickey and the shorter man knows it’s not one of mercy. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“Well, _Mykhailo_ is 100% Ukranian. Your mom came to the states when she was, what, 22, Mick?” Ian is full on smirking now, the little shit. He’s not above kicking Ian underneath the table and he does so, taking a small victory in the wince that crosses the taller man’s face.

“Oh my god. _Mykhailo_? Is this real life?” Janelle is openly laughing and Rikki and Dalton don’t have the decorum to hold back their own laughter.

“I am so going to call you that from now on!” Rikki laughs into his beer and his eyes glint with mischief.

“Good luck with that. The few people who learn it usually forget what it is within a day and since none of ya could even identify Ukrainian, I think I’m safe.” Mickey smirks at the mutual looks of ‘challenge accepted’ that dances in their eyes. Ian is looking at him with a fondness that would have made him uncomfortable when they were growing up. He can’t help the heat that travels to the tips of his ears, so he tries to swallow it down with a swig from his drink.

“So, what? You’re fluent in English, but you also know Ukrainian and Spanish?” Rikki asks.

“Well, Ukrainian is kind of my first language,” Mickey starts and notices the slight shocked look that Ian shares with the others that he tries to hide, so he elaborates. “Ma barely spoke English and it’s not like Terry talked to us, so Mands and I learned Ukrainian first. After moms died, Terry “taught” me English and made me teach Mandy. I barely know Spanish. I worked in a garage in Chicago where there was practically no white people.” Mickey casually gestures his hand like he’s wiping the words away from the air as he speaks them.

“Oh,” is all they can think to say. The silence isn’t too long before the others start recanting stories of their own to Ian. Mickey feels Ian’s hand slide up his thigh and instead of moving away, he rests his arms on the back of the booth and casually plays with the hair on the back of Ian's neck. If the others notice this, they say nothing about it. That is, until Dalton’s in the middle of telling a story that Mickey isn’t really paying attention to when Janelle turns to them and just blurts out,  
“You guys have been touching the whole time. I gotta know. Who’s the bottom?” Rikki chokes on his beer, Dalton stops midsentence, and Ian lets out a surprised laugh.

“I – you- what the fuck?” Mickey sputters intelligently.

“She’s got a point there, Mykhalio! You sure seem like a top, but so does Ian!” Dalton’s words sound like they have a spring in their step. Fuck him.

“Ok, _that's_ not my name and we’re leaving,” Mickey huffs, grabbing Ian’s sleeve and pulling him from the booth. He ignores the protests behind him and doesn’t need to look back to know that they’re following him. They manage to get outside when Ian stops.

“I forgot my jacket and we forgot to pay the tab. Be right back.” And just like that, he leaves Mickey to the hounds. But they’re surprisingly quiet. Fuckin’ Rikki ruins this, of course.

“So why _didn’t_ you tell us, Mickey?” The hurt isn’t completely gone from his eyes, but his newly placed curiosity comes with two matching pairs. He doesn’t know what to say, so he opts for the truth since it’s the theme of the day.

“I don’t know, man. It’s… it’s not like I’m ashamed or nothin’. It’s just… last time I… came out to a group of people that meant anything to me, I ended up with a bloody face, bruised ribs, a chipped tooth, death threats, and bruises around my neck that didn’t go away for a week.” Mickey can’t look at them this time. Can’t bring himself to see the pity in their eyes. But he can hear the sharp intake of breath and the ringing silence between them. He feels a light touch on his elbow that would have made him swing wildly a few years back. But he’s 26 now and Ian’s made him soft(er).

“Mick. We don’t… we ain’t like that. We give you shit, yeah, but only ‘cause we love you.” Janelle looks to Dalton and Rikki for confirmation and Mickey sees them nodding in agreement. “Kinda surprising, definitely. But hell, you admitted to us that you’ve been in this relationship for, like, 10 years. You’ve got the word ‘fuck’ tattooed on your knuckles and you’re in the most stable and functional relationship any of us have seen. How the hell could we hate you for that?” Janelle finishes and Dalton takes up the empty air.

“Ian’s good for you and, from what I can see, it’s a two-way street, brother.” Mickey isn’t used to the others being serious like this. What the hell is he supposed to say? How the fuck do you react to that? Luckily Ian solves his problem when he comes up behind Mickey and rests a hand on his shoulder.

“You ready to go home?” He asks with a smile. Mickey can feel the warmth spread like drinking hot broth during a snowstorm. It shoots through his veins and encapsulates his heart. He spares his co-workers a quick glance before snaking one arm around Ian’s waist and the other on his cheek. Ian’s eyes widen for a grand total of .2 seconds before he succumbs and meets Mickey’s lips with his own. He loves Ian. He can show that. It’s been hard, but he can show that. He’s a show rather than tell kind of guy, anyway.

And if his coworkers are blushing and catcalling while the whole fucking street watches, then that’s just _none of his fucking business._

 

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Well that's that! This is surprisingly longer than my Destiels! But I'm okay with that. Writing Mickey was surprisingly fun for me! I didn't have much chance to re-read this and it's not like it's beta'd. Also, I'm not 100% confident in my Spanish, so if that's wrong, please feel free to tell me so I can correct it! And if my Ukrainian is wrong, blame Google Translator. Thank you, Monica, for correcting Mickey's name! Leave a kudos or a comment!  
> Feel free to follow me and send me prompts for what to write on [Tumblr](http://little-spn-obsessed.tumblr.com/)! I'm a pretty heavy Supernatural and Shameless blog.


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